Opus
by Disney United
Summary: As Roger's senior year of high school begins to draw to a close, he becomes more desperate than ever to compose that piece - that one piece that will set him for life. However, he needs inspiration...inspiration, which will come to him in the form of the the quiet and odd book worm, Anita.
1. Chapter 1

There is a process I go through, when composing a piano piece. First, I have to say to myself: I'm going to compose a piano piece. It's kind of like mental fortification.

After that, then I sit at my piano. And I stare at the keyboard. It's sort of more mental fortification. And then, when I finally place my hands on the keyboard...I wait. Wait for what? Most likely, some miracle rhapsody to jump into my fingers effortlessly. But of course, that doesn't happen. So I play. Nothing in particular, really. Mostly I just play chords and a few simplistic melodies, trying to find something that sounds right. I'd toy around with different key signatures, working my way through the circle of fifths, until I found just the right sound for that particular piece.

Then, I get into full-on composing mode. I play the little melodies I develop over and over again until they stick in my head. Then I add onto that, creating as many different sections as I like. Sometimes I start in the middle of the piece and work my way outwards, and sometimes I start at the beginning. It really just depends on the day. The point is, I play a lot, until there is something of a fully-developed piece in my head.

Only it's not fully developed. Not until I try to put it down onto paper, do I realize how much I switch time signatures, and how god-awful my piece looks written down. Like after I write it all down, it honestly looks as complicated as one of Robert Schumann's pieces. So I have to do lots of reworking and editing, making that original piece of sheet music I started writing the piece down on look like a complete mess, indecipherable to anyone but myself. Which, to be honest, that's pretty accurate.

Then I copy that onto another piece of sheet music, that's devoid of annoying eraser marks. On that draft, I put down all the extra marks, like dynamics, speed, all that nonsense. Of course, every time I change things, there are eraser marks marring the piece once more.

So I copy it over to another new piece of sheet music (though not before making sure it is precisely how I want it). That is the final copy - or rather, the one I store away to never be published.

So, to put it simply, I put hours upon hours of work into my music with no reward, though I've never really desired any "reward" before recently. Well...I suppose even now I don't "desire" it; I _need _it.

College was something that was always in "the plan". I saved every cent I could from my job at the local cafe, and I often opted out of things "normal teenage boys" would do. But college kept becoming more expensive, and thus more out of my reach.

My family wasn't the richest family...we were far from it, in fact. Poverty-stricken, some might call us. My dad, you see, spent his entire life, his entire soul, and entire bank account working on his Magnum Opus. Mom left him, me, and our dog, Pongo, when I was young. We began living in the tiny apartment above the local bookstore after that.

Dad continued to compose music, but there was something missing in nearly everything. He realized that, but something kept pushing him forward. Eventually I began playing piano too, becoming good...which was good, because I wanted to make a life for myself playing piano and composing. It was something I loved.

Dad basically said no to my plans. He didn't want me to end up like him, I suppose, but that gave me all the more incentive to disobey him. I wanted to compose music. I wanted to prove myself.

So I needed to compose a piece, an actual _good _piece, that could bring me success, and possibly a chance at going to college to further my learning of music.

But I was running out of time. High school was slowly coming to an end, and my "savior" of a piece hadn't came to me yet. I composed of course...but everything just sounded the same! No matter what I tried, no matter what I did...the perfect bout of inspiration had not struck me yet.

I could only hope it would soon.

**_A/N I am really sort of excited about this! I know this fanfic will be a rather short multi-chap, but I wanted to do something with my love for composing and playing the piano, and doing so through Roger (and having him and Anita fall for each other) will just be awesome! XD_**

**_If there's a story in any Disney-Pixar fandom you would like me to write, feel free to request it!_**

**_Please review!_**


	2. Chapter 2

"Roger! Stop lazing about, boy, or you'll be late!" my father shouted from the other side of my bedroom door, as he did every morning.

Pongo was the first of the two of us to stir. He got up, stretching, before jumping up on the bed, and smothering me in disgusting kisses. I pushed him off, rolling off the bed in the process.

"Stop thumping about, or Ms. de Vil will get on our case again," my father called.

In a brief act of defiance I stood up and stomped over to my door opening it up as father rose a hand to knock.

He glared at me, and I smiled up at him in a manner I considered rather cheeky.

"Watch it," he warned, though I knew it was an empty threat.

"The witch can deal with it," I said offhandedly, making my way to the kitchen. Dad followed me, his bare feet slapping the floor quietly.

He made a sound similar to a chuckle, but quickly covered it with a cough. "While I might agree, you have to show your elders respect, boy."

I rolled my eyes slightly, digging around in the cabinets; granted, there wasn't much to dig through. Only a few cereal boxes.

I pulled out my favorite, before promptly shoving my hand into the box, pulling out a handful of the flakes and shoving them into my mouth.

"Roger," Dad warned for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

I merely shrugged, plopping down at the honky-tonk piano that was positioned in the small section of spare space in our tiny apartment that wasn't taken up by some other piece of furniture.

I set the box down beside me, before practicing my scales. I went through the circle of fifths: C to G, to D, to A, to E, to B, to F#, to C#...and so on. Every once in a while, I would shove another handful of cereal into my mouth, before continuing to play. I then went through a couple easy songs, like "Pastorale" and "Arabesque" and "Morning Suite".

After that, I kind of like to work on a couple things by Chopin, or any other Romantic Era composers. I kind of like the slow, smooth pieces. Their peaceful.

"Roger!" Dad exclaimed, jolting me out of my reverie. I tilted my head backwards, looking at him upside down.

"Huh?"

He tapped his watch. "School."

I sat up, staring at the wall clock. Why did he wait that long to tell me?!

I jumped to my feet, muttering angrily as I jerked the cereal box away from Pongo, and running into my room.

"Stop banging about-"

"I'm running late!"

"Then maybe you should have been getting ready instead of practicing."

I fell in an attempt at putting on my pants. Pongo pounced on me, trying to play tog of war.

"This house is mad!" I exclaimed, pushing him off. Finally after a massive amount of struggling, my pants worked their way over my ass. I jumped to my feet, grabbing a t shirt from the floor and yanking it on over my head. Soon after I was sprinting for the door, scooping up my school books and shoving them in my bag.

"See you after school!" I yelled, as I slammed the door shut. I took off down the stairs, into the back room of the bookstore.

"You were rather loud this morning, Roger," Ms. de Vil warned, her head popping out from behind a huge stack of books.

"Sorry!" I yelped, navigating around the maze of books, for the curtain separator.

She shouted after me, but I ignored her, bursting into the shop - only to come crashing into a stack of books on the other side.

I fell to the ground, landing on top of the stack. Which moved.

And shouted, "Get off me!"

I rolled off the stack, as Cruella appeared at the curtain. "What is going on here - Roger, what did you do?!"

I glared at her briefly. "I didn't mean to." I turned from her, just as the person who had been holding all the books sat up, the books falling to her waist.

"Well, that was an adventure," she muttered.

"Oh, Anita! I'm so sorry for him." Cruella glared at me. "He's clumsy as all get out."

I sighed heavily, restraining my anger. I started gathering up her books, as she stuttered out, "No, no, it's fine, the books were sort of blocking-"

She stopped speaking as our hands met, resting over the top of a leather bound copy of "Les Miserables".

"...my vision," she said, looking staring at me. I stared at her back.

Anita. I rolled the name over in my head. I knew the name, and I knew her face. She was that bookworm girl, the girl from my school that practically lived at the bookstore.

She was one of those people you always knew was there, but you never really talked to. A reliable ghost.

"Hi," I said dumbly.

"Salutations," she said, taking the remaining books from me into her arms.

"Excuse me?" I asked, standing up with her.

"Salutations. It's a much better greeting than "hi" or "hey" or "hello"," she said pompously. She turned from me, setting the stack of books on the counter. "I'm ready to check out, Ms. de Vil."

"Of course," the woman said. She turned to me briefly. "And shouldn't you be running off to school."

I glared at her, jogging for the door. I swung the door open, the little bell atop it jingling slightly, before Anita's voice halted me.

"You're not going to school like that, are you?"

I whirled around to face her. She was raising an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with how I look?"

"Besides the fact you're not wearing any shoes?" she sneered. "Not a thing."

I grumbled, heading back upstairs. She was annoying.

When I came back down, she and the bike outside were gone.

I sighed bitterly, before taking off running towards school.

**_A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter, lovelies!_**

**_Have a request for any Disney-Pixar story? Send 'em my way!_**

**_Please review!_**


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